My sister, Holly, is about 18 months younger than me. We've always been extremely close and have been best friends since the day she was born. No matter what, I know I can call her and I can depend on her, and she'll always be there for me. We never really fought, and when we did, it was always over very quickly. We were always off in our own little world together and would do everything together while growing up. We're VERY different though. Once she went off to college, she found herself and she changed. She's still my little sister though and I'd do anything for her no matter what. I'm pretty traditional when it comes to most things, and she does what she wants, when she wants, how she wants. I'll have to do a blog about her one of these times.
Anywho, here's the little blog I wrote from September 4, 2007. (And lots of great pictures).
Raincoats and Juneau
It’s raining today and as I was getting my raincoat out of the closet, I got a whiff of the campfires and the sweaty smell that had penetrated my pink raincoat. Yes, it has been washed, but the smell of a good campfire is hard to get rid of, and quite frankly, I like the smell for many reasons.
It reminds me of 4th of July when Holly and I ran down the shore and mooned a cruise ship as it was leaving the Gastineau Channel, while we left the other people to build the campfire. That was really the first night I fell in love with my pink raincoat, as it hadn’t really rained the first week I was in Juneau.

It reminds me of the good times I had with Holly, my best friend, on the camping trip we took to Douglas Island, where Anthony brought a 45 mm gun, in case we encountered a bear. It reminds me of the boat ride we took to get to the island, where I was freezing cold from the wind, as we were floating across the water in the 17ft. skiff that I thought I would be scared of, but I wasn’t. And then I shed my raincoat once we pulled ashore because it was so soo warm outside. When I look at those pictures, of Douglas Island, I can feel the warmth of the sun on my back and on my face. It makes me smile and I miss it soooo much. It reminds me of the nights we spent camping that I used my raincoat as a pillow, as I intentionally left behind my real pillow at home. Or the nights I slept in my raincoat to keep warm.
It reminds me of the time we spent in Haines, hiking with our five beer growlers, sweating our asses off and hoping to hitch a ride. (We succeeded, six different times, I might add). It reminds me on our hike to Battery Point in Haines, walking through the rain forest and getting all muddy and loving it. And the night we went to the Haines Library (voted the best small library in America in 2005), semi-drunk, and walked back to camp in the drizzly rain, cold and wishing we could build a campfire in the rain.
It reminds me of the time I spent on the whale watching boats, looking at humpback whales bubble netting, spouting and lifting their tails out of the water.

(The second time I went whale watching, it was a very foggy morning. This is when we saw the humpback whales bubble netting).

It reminds me of fishing on the dock for salmon and Holly repeatedly telling me that I look pretty dorky in my pink raincoat, with my hood on.
(Everyone was fishing off the docks here. Everyone caught so many fish. I spent a whole afternoon watching person after person real in another salmon).
(We went back that night with my sister and some of her friends. Steve caught 3 salmon really quickly... and I caught a log....
(Steve taught Holly and I how to gut and clean a fish. A few days later, we had a big salmon feast and cooked them many different ways. Above is me gutting and cleaning the fish).
(Here I am holding the fish tail I chopped off. I still can't believe I did that. It was so cold and slimy and gross...but cool).
It reminds me of the glacier cruise that I took alone, on the Tracy Arm Fjord tour, where the walls of the fjord were upwards of 7,000 feet high, where there were chunks of ice floating in the water and I was standing outside on the boat, looking at South Sawyer Glacier calving, and watching 40 or 50 seals resting on the ice bergs or sliding off the ice bergs and eagles flying over head. It was about 40 degrees that day and I was so extremely cold and I spent the day shivering because there was NO heat on the boat and I only had my pink raincoat, a green sweater and a t-shirt.
It reminds me of fishing on the dock for salmon and Holly repeatedly telling me that I look pretty dorky in my pink raincoat, with my hood on.
It reminds me of the glacier cruise that I took alone, on the Tracy Arm Fjord tour, where the walls of the fjord were upwards of 7,000 feet high, where there were chunks of ice floating in the water and I was standing outside on the boat, looking at South Sawyer Glacier calving, and watching 40 or 50 seals resting on the ice bergs or sliding off the ice bergs and eagles flying over head. It was about 40 degrees that day and I was so extremely cold and I spent the day shivering because there was NO heat on the boat and I only had my pink raincoat, a green sweater and a t-shirt.
When I got home, I was sad to wash the smell of these memories away. It doesn’t smell like ‘me,’ which is typically a Dior or Calvin Klein or Clinique or Davidoff perfume. It smells like campfires and sweat and good times in Juneau, Alaska. (For the record, I didn’t wear perfume in Alaska - shocking, if you know me).
I heard The Counting Crow’s “A Long December” yesterday and I was reminded of my last night in downtown Juneau, that Holly, Aimon and I spent at Pizzeria Romo’s, eating the shit out of the pesto pizza, talking about what that song reminds us of. And drinking beer, after Holly had ordered one and the waiter guy said, “are you being serious- you want that kind?”
I was fearless in that pink raincoat. I did things I never thought I would do, never imagined I could do. But I did them, and sure enough, I lived through all of those experiences. And I would do it all again in a heartbeat.
I heard The Counting Crow’s “A Long December” yesterday and I was reminded of my last night in downtown Juneau, that Holly, Aimon and I spent at Pizzeria Romo’s, eating the shit out of the pesto pizza, talking about what that song reminds us of. And drinking beer, after Holly had ordered one and the waiter guy said, “are you being serious- you want that kind?”
I was fearless in that pink raincoat. I did things I never thought I would do, never imagined I could do. But I did them, and sure enough, I lived through all of those experiences. And I would do it all again in a heartbeat.

Gorgeous pictures! My parents spent some time camping around Alaska and loved it. I would love to venture up there some day.
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